Spellbound
by Keliandra
Summary: Templar Alistair was returning to Kinloch Hold when he stumbled upon her. She was injured, in the hands of bandits who would sell her to slavery. As she recovered and became stronger word reached the camp of a dangerous apostate on the loose. They joined together to track down the mage, little did he know she was there all along. (AU - Canon Divergence)
1. Chapter 1

The ground underfoot was harsh and unforgiving. She had been forced to give up on the heels she had left in such a hurry with, after her ankles became uncomfortably swollen. A glance downwards was all that had been required to see some of the damage. Her toes were cracked and blood was oozing between them, the top of her foot caked in dirt and maker only knew what else. That was just the places she could see, the others she could _feel_ each time a foot connected with the ground underneath. The bottom of both feet felt as if they had been rubbed raw, each step brought with it a new painful sensation on top of the dull throbbing ache that was constant. Every small stone or uneven patch of ground made itself known in the worst way possible, what had started out as steady steps in the first days were now hobbled, uneven steps that made her head feel as if it was spinning.

A gasp escaped her lips as an already sore bare foot came down onto a sharp jagged stick, stabbing directly into flesh where skin had long since vanished. Traveling along the road, although more than likely less harsh than the forest ground, was a risk she hadn't been willing to take. Too many travelers traversed the roads, she needed to remain unseen. Out of sight for fear that word might make it back to those she was trying to remain out of reach from. When she attempted to inhale deeply, her all too dry throat burned and protested as the air passed through. Even taking deep breaths no longer offered the relief from the pain they had in the beginning.

Low lying shrubs scratched and bit at Melina's legs, digging into the skin in the places her leather pants no longer offered protection as she stumbled her way over to the nearest tree. The trunk twisted and curled into awkward positions making it hard against her back as she leaned on it for support. Supplies were running low, the last town was at least three days back and even if there was another, she had no remaining coin to speak of. All she had left was one slice of bread and a quarter filled canteen of water that she knew had to last as long as possible. It was hard not to miss the comforts of the Amell estate, even if it was no longer as large as it had once been. Food, a warm bed, a roof and even shoes, luxuries so easily taken for granted that she now longed for.

It was even harder knowing she could never go back. A life that would now remain forever out of her reach.

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Once the camp had been set up, there was still just enough daylight time left to enjoy a stroll. After sitting on horseback for the majority of the day, the opportunity to stretch his legs was a welcomed one. The days spent at the palace had been grueling, as they always were. Filled with politics that he didn't much care for. He had never seen eye to eye with King Cailan on important matters and was beginning to think he never would. His brother always seemed to so easily push aside people that Alistair felt deserved more attention, more assistance, more help. All King Cailan seemed to care about were the deals that would increase his own power and standing, with little to no regard of the people underneath who went ignored. Helping common people didn't earn a King a place in the historical records, Cailan wanted the glory so much that it blinded him.

Even so, sometimes he still wondered if the trade off had been worth it. He joined the Templar Order to get away from the palace and all that came with it. Sometimes it felt as if he had taken on a lesser evil in order to escape what he perceived as a greater one. In a way Alistair was grateful to be on his way back to his templar duties. If only to distance himself of the title of Prince and all of the expectations that came with it, the support he was expected to show King Cailan even if he didn't _feel_ it. In another way, he dreaded returning to that tower and what came with his templar duties. He was expected to remain distanced from the mages under his charge, a task that wasn't always so easy. He was certain some of his fellow templars didn't even view mages as people, that thought alone was enough to leave a bad taste in his mouth and an ill feeling in the pit of his stomach. How they could see a person, books sprawled out on the ground after a stumble and not stop to render assistance was beyond him.

"Your Majesty, if you are intending a walk one of us should accompany you. The woods can be a dangerous place," Braxton said as he quickly moved to Alistair's side.

"I'm fully armoured, armed and I am not going far. I can take care of myself," he responded as he tried to brush the guard off.

"But your majesty-" Braxton tried again.

"Not this time. Do not make me regret giving into my Uncle's request to bring guards with me on this trip," Alistair grumbled in frustration. He already regretted giving in. Five minutes of peace all to himself, such a simple pleasure that most took for granted and something he was rarely afforded. At least not outside of his own bedroom and in the tower, even that was shared with other templars.

"As you wish," the guard finally relented reluctantly as he stopped walking and remained standing by the recently erected tent.

They had been careful to position the camp far enough away from the main road that the nightly campfire wouldn't be visible by any late travelers, it was a way of avoiding unwanted attention. The woodlands were thick with trees and he breathed in a sigh of relief at the moment's reprieve as the camp site disappeared behind him. If he were completely honest with himself, he was in no more of a rush to return to Kinloch Hold then he had been to attend the palaces annual ball. If he wasn't dealing with expectations on how to conduct himself as Prince Alistair, then he was dealing with rules on how to conduct himself around the circles mages.

Neither position ever really felt _right._ It was more like he was standing off to the side observing someone else's life or, as if he was wearing shoes that had never quite fit. Deep in thought he wasn't certain how long he had been walking for when something caught his notice. There on the trunk of a tree in front of him was what appeared to be fresh blood. With practice eyes he glanced at the ground to see sets of tracks that were easily visible. Coming from one direction he could see bare footprints in the dirt and from another, three very distinctively different sets of boot prints. The boot prints were all over and appear to have gone back the way they had come but the bare footprints just stopped at the tree and never left it. They were small prints, much smaller than the foot of most men. That lead him to believe the blood belonged to a female or someone much younger. Most certainly someone who was in trouble.

Templar training taught many things including the art of tracking. It was required when finding apostates or mages who have escaped the circles walls. As he looked closer at the tracks, they too told a story all of their own. One of the original set of footprints was heavier as it tracked back the way it had come. The person they belonged to was carrying something, most likely the girl or child with the bare feet. He knew it would probably be in his best interest to return to the camp and come back with assistance, but as he looked upwards at the sky, he also knew the daylight hours were fast fading. There was a chance someone needed help, fast, he couldn't just turn away from that.

As he followed the tracks through the forest, an echo of words spoken to him many times by his uncle swam through his mind. One day his sense of righteousness would be his undoing. Perhaps that would be the day but, he thought it better he go that way then pretend to be someone he was not. He pressed forward, eyes following the tracks on the ground, ignoring the prickling sensation from the hairs on the back of his neck.

The scent of smoke and freshly cooking meat reached his nose long before he heard the sounds of voices from the camp up ahead or even saw the glow from a fire. Remaining down low, hiding behind shrubs and tree's he approached carefully. Unseen and unheard it only took a moment to assess the camps status. Three men sat around the fire, bound and gagged closer to it was a prisoner. The fire crackled and popped, spraying embers that landed on the dirt far too close to the prisoner for comfort. He could tell the person was petite with long hair and bare feet, however from a distance he could make out little else.

"How long will she be out for?" he heard one of the men ask.

"Till mornin' at least," another, the one who was the furthest away replied.

"Awake just in time for the slave markets? The buyers are gonna want to see the fire in 'er eyes, should fetch us some decent coin," the last of the bandits added.

"She will be awake in time, you will see. Goin' ta have ta watch 'er for the night, 'case she wakes early. Don't want 'er making a run for it," the first one said.

"The three of us will take shifts. Just don't go getting any ideas. She won't pull in as much coin if one of you two violate 'er before we can sell 'er. They'll check ya know and I reckon at 'er age she's probably still a virgin."

Alistair's hands clenched as one reached for his sword, the longer he listened to the way they spoke about the girl, the tighter his grip around the sword's hilt became. She was a commodity to them, the way someone spoke about a piece of furniture they planned on selling. The very thought make his stomach churn and, it took all of his effort not to spring right into the camp between the three of them with his weapon drawn. He forced a deep shaking breath, knowing he wouldn't be able to help her by doing something irrational and getting himself killed.

Each of the men had a weapon that was easily within their reaching distance as they sat talking and drinking. He could see one bow and two swords. Three against one weren't the best odds but, he had faced worse. He reached down and picked up the reasonably large stone that his foot had brushed against a moment prior. Facing the camp he aimed, swung his arm and tossed it. Moving quickly he positioned himself behind the closest tree, sword unsheathed in his hand ready. The stone landed directly between two of the men and had the effect that Alistair had been hoping for.

Two of the bandits began to move in his direction, whilst the other one remained by the camp to keep an eye on the girl. It was better odds, two on one rather than storming the camp and taking all three at once. He held his breath as he listened to the footsteps closing in on his position. He could hear that the two approaching him were a slight distance apart from each other by the sounds the crunching of dried leaves made under their feet. As one reached the other side of the tree he was hiding behind he quickly sprang to action. He jumped out and with one strong, sharp swing his sword sliced straight through the leather armor the man was wearing. Taking him completely by surprise the man slumped instantly to the ground groaning and gasping.

The second bandit only took a moment to realise what had happened and lept into action with a swing at Alistair. The swing went high and slightly wide and only just narrowly missed his head as he ducked underneath the sharp blade. He recovered quickly and moved in on the bandit with a flurry of attacks. Metal clinked on metal as each swing of his sword was successfully blocked. He watched the other man closely, every movement, every step and remained on the offensive wearing him down one swing at a time. Finally he saw his opening and took a low swing, his sword connected with the bandits legs. They were knocked right out from under him as the blade sliced through the poorly tailored leather armor.

Both men were still alive, Alistair knew that much. His only hope was that they had been injured enough not to rejoin the fight as he quickly moved in on the camp and the last enemy standing. With the light provided by the campfire he could see the man's eyes wide with fear, even in the diminishing daylight. He was much younger than the other two had been, perhaps even the son of one. Instead of moving towards him as Alistair had expected, the last bandit was backing away.

"Please, don't hurt me." He stumbled over a rock in his attempt to retreat and raised an arm above his head. As if he thought it would offer some protection from the assault he expected would reign down on him.

"Allow me to take the girl and you will not be harmed," Alistair stated firmly.

"Go on and take 'er. More trouble than she's worth," the bandit agreed quickly.

Alistair moved over to the girls side and risked a quick glance downwards. She was a small thing, perhaps even smaller then she should be. It didn't look as if she had been afforded a decent meal in a while. Her hair framed her face and although it was mostly caked with dirt, blood and stained green from foliage he could see the lighter, blonde strands that had somehow managed to remain clean. He raised his eyes back to the bandit, not game enough to risk looking away for too long and kept them on him, with one hand on his sword as he lifted the girl over his shoulder. His hand connected with a damp patch on her clothing as he lifted her, it felt sticky and thick like blood.

"You need coin so badly that you would harm an innocent girl?" Alistair said as he kept his attention on the other man.

"Would have been easy coin, if not for you," the young man admitted.

"There's a town a few hours back, heading towards Denerim. They are in need of strong hands to work the fields. They are offering a roof, food and pay for anyone willing to take on the work. It's good honest work with steady pay. Once you patch your friends up, remember you were spared and consider a different path." He didn't really believe his words would be listened to but it was at least worth a try. The town needed a lot of help, three extra pairs of capable strong hands would go a long way. So long as they didn't rob them blind the moment they had the chance.

The bandit said nothing as Alistair stepped back and continued walking backwards until he was more secure with the distance between them. Only then did he turn, with the girl slung over his shoulder, to make his way back to their own camp.

It was dark by the time he reached the camp and he could see his guards standing by the fire conversing. They appeared to be splitting into teams, most likely to go in search of him. "When you are all done trying to mount a search party I could use a hand here," he said as he approached them.

"A quick walk you said," Braxton complained. "Where have you been and…" his voice trailed off for a moment as his eyes came to rest on the girl, "Who is that?"

"I don't know," Alistair admitted. "What I do know is a group of bandits back there were intending to sell her into slavery and she is injured. Help me get her into my tent so we can assess the damage."

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Alistair carefully laid her down on the bedroll in his tent and took a moment to light the lamp. A soft orange hue provided him with enough illumination to see better as he placed the lamp beside her. Braxton remained nearby, standing just outside of the open tent flap, no doubt equally curious about their new guest but remained out of the way so Alistair had room enough to move freely.

Carefully he reached over to brush the tendrils of hair away from her face, the dirt and blood making a few of the locks stick to her cheek as he worked them loose. Underneath it all his eyes followed the smooth contours of her cheeks and the perfect line of her jaw. "Sweet Maker, she can't be any older than I am." He trailed his fingers along her jawline to her chin, moving them around any visible cuts and scratches.

"Think she was traveling alone, all the way out here?" Braxton asked with a doubtful tone.

"I didn't see any other tracks, just hers and the bandits. She is feverish," he added as his fingers brushed over her warm, damp forehead. "Who are you and what were you doing out here alone?" he asked with a tone filled with wonder and disbelief. His eyes traveled downwards in the direction he had felt the patch of blood when he had first lifted her. It was a perfectly rounded hole right through her shoulder. "Arrow shot," he mused out loud. "They must have laced it with a tranquilizer."

He startled when Braxton spoke up again, having been so absorbed in her that he had forgotten the man was still standing there. "Are you sure it wasn't poison?"

"They wanted her alive. I overheard them talking about selling her to the slave market," he couldn't keep the bitter tone from his words as he looked at her perfect young face. Other than a few recent scratches, no doubt from her trek through the forest, her skin was flawless and unmarked. She clearly wasn't a warrior or a fighter of any kind, if she was there would be scars or some signs of battle but she had none of those. With no other signs of a struggle at the location of the blood stain, he doubted she even saw them coming before the arrow hit her in the shoulder. _Cowards._ Only a coward would prey on the weak and unarmed. He almost regretted not killing them when he had the chance.

"So now that she is here, ummm what are you planning on doing with her?" Braxton asked.

"I need a bowl of cool water, some elfroot salve, one of those healing potions if I can get her to drink any of it and a canteen of fresh water," Alistair instructed without taking his eyes from her.

The top she wore had short sleeves, as he examined her further he could see recent scratches across her lower arms, yet still they were the only thing beyond the dirt that marred her flawless skin. A couple of the scratches were deep, nasty looking things from jagged sticks or other terrain. He knew all too well how unforgiving the deeper parts of the forest were, especially for those not properly protected from the jutting rocks and low lying branches. At the very least well tailored leather armour was required to keep them at bay, something that covered ones bare skin completely and she had neither. Whatever had taken her out there was hastily done, unplanned.

The thin leather pants that covered her legs, the one part of her body that was at least at some point fully covered, had holes and rips. Underneath the fabric was also scratched, far worse then her arms. There was barely an area of visible skin that wasn't damaged by the time his eyes rested on her ankles. Then there was her feet, bare and swollen with the skin literally worn down to nothing but flesh by the harsh terrain. The more he looked the more questions that presented themselves without any answers, teasing the recesses of his mind.

The earliest scratches that had started healing were a week old at the most. He wondered if she even knew where she was going or, if she had somehow been lost and aimlessly wandering. It was clear there would be no answers until she woke to answer the questions for herself. If she chose to answer them at all.

Alistair reached past her and the bedroll to his swag so he could pull out one of his clean shirts. He settled back down beside her and began ripping it into strips. He wasn't going to be able to clean those wounds with just his bare hands and water. For once he was at least thankful for his uncle's persistence that they be prepared for anything or, he wouldn't even have the healing supplies that had been packed into one of the crates and secured to a horse. He remembered protesting at the time that the potions would be enough and the rest was just extra weight. Thankfully his uncle had ignored those protests.

 _Where is Braxton and those supplies?_ He sure seemed to be taking his time with them, the camp wasn't that large. Of course there were things he could be doing to be better prepared for when the supplies did get to him but, he was purposely stalling. A flush crept it's way to his cheeks at the mere thought of needing to remove her outer layer of clothing so he could tend to those wounds properly. Especially the arrow shot to her shoulder. Maker what was _wrong_ with him? It shouldn't have mattered that under the layers of dirt she _was_ pretty much perfect, the lines of her face, the shape of her jaw and chin, the curves of the muscles along her arms and that she was also roughly his age. Still she needed help, not some blubbering idiot embarrassed about the mere thought of a bit of bare skin.

 _Pull it together, you haven't even spoken to the woman yet._ He found himself wondering what her voice would sound like. His mind conjured up something soft and sweet to match how he pictured her cleaned up without all the injuries, or even with them. In reality her voice would probably be as dry as her lips looked, cracked from lack of fluids. If her throat was dry enough, perhaps she would barely even be able to speak at all. At that moment however, he was thankful for the tranquilizer that meant she couldn't see his red, flushed cheeks.

All of those thoughts were interrupted as Braxton appeared back at the open tent flap with his hands full. Alistair quickly jumped to his feet and relieved the other man of the bowl filled with clean, cool water and carefully placed it by the bed. Even as careful as he was a small amount of the liquid still sloshed over the side as the bowl was jostled when it touched the ground.

"Just put the rest over here." He motioned to a spot on the ground beside him as he sat himself by the bowl. "Close the flap on your way out, I have to er.. her clothes.. you know... so I can get to the wounds… to clean them." He stammered, positive the colour was raising to his cheeks even more each time he tripped over a word.

"Of course. I am sure she would prefer not to have an audience," Braxton replied with an amused tone.

Alistair was certain that amused tone was mocking his embarrassment. With a sigh he brushed it off as he turned his attention to the girl and what had to be done. "Just don't go too far incase I need something else," he said as he waited for the sound of the tent flap being lowered.

Once he knew for sure the rest of the guards in the camp could no longer see in, he swallowed hard and then carefully unbuttoned the shirt she was wearing. His fingers moved gently, almost as if he was afraid of breaking the girl, or damaging her further. Once the buttons were undone he slowly slid the shirt down her arms, revealing the arrow wound to her shoulder. It was a neat, perfectly rounded hole. At least they hadn't used a jagged arrowhead, they always left more damage in their wake and were far more painful to recover from.

He dipped one of the strips of material into the bowl of water and ever so tenderly wiped the blood away from around the hole. It appeared to have bled a lot at the time the arrow had been removed. If the amount of blood soaked into her shirt was any indication but, the wound was no longer actively bleeding. Alistair knew he needed to be careful to make sure it stayed that way, a wrong move could reopen the wound. He rolled her to one side slowly and then the other as he removed the shirt and tossed it to one side. After she was positioned back on the bedroll he carefully applied a generous amount of the elfroot salve to the arrow wound, filling the hole as he hoped it would be enough. Although the templar training required a small amount of knowledge on tending to wounds in the field, he was no healer and most of that training had been tending to the damage magic could cause.

As he looked back at her face, he noticed some strands of hair had repositioned themselves across it when he rolled her. He reached his hand over to brush them aside again. As his fingers connected with her skin he could feel it burning beneath them, running even hotter than it had been when he first brushed her hair aside. Reacting quickly he pulled his hand back and reached for another strip of material, dropping it into the cool water he retrieved it again and ran it across her face. Droplets of water slid down her cheeks and over her forehead collecting the dirt and blood, revealing her soft pale skin underneath. He dipped the cloth in the water, squeezed some of the excess out and proceeded to wipe over her face gently. Little by little as the grime came away and her face revealed itself under his administrations, he could see just how perfectly sweet she really did look under all of the dirt that had soiled her. He could also see how deathly pale and vulnerable she appeared to be.

His stomach clenched tightly at the thought that maybe, he might be too late to help her.

Each time the cloth in his hand became blackened and dirt ridden, he tossed it aside to grab another. With careful, tentative hands every cut and scratch on her face was cleaned and then covered with salve to help them begin healing. In between working on her wounds he dipped a cloth in the water, trickling the liquid across her forehead and over the top of her head in an attempt to keep the fever down. After placing another damp cloth against her forehead and leaving it there, he moved to hook his thumbs under the waistband of her leather pants. He felt the heat rising up his neck and creeping across his cheeks and was forced to remind himself that there was no choice. She needed to be cleaned up, the wounds needed to be tended to and the only way to do that was to strip her down to her small clothes so that nothing was missed.

It felt wrong to be removing the clothing of a girl who had never even met him. For her to be so exposed and vulnerable to a complete stranger, even if his intentions were in the right place. He swallowed hard and pushed aside his embarrassment the best that he was able to. With careful movements he lowered her pants downwards. He cringed when there were places that the material was stuck to the blood and wounds on her legs, grateful that she had been tranquilized even if the situation that caused it wasn't ideal. The pain would have been immeasurable as he pulled the material away, some of the cuts on her legs so badly stuck to the material that they opened and started bleeding. _Sweet maker._ He desperately hoped that she couldn't feel the pain.

He finally got them down over her feet and tossed them over on top of the shirt she had been wearing. He cleaned every cut and scratch on her arms and legs with no real idea of just how many hours had passed as he worked. By the end he had ripped up another two of his own shirts and used some of the strips to bandage her feet after cleaning them and applying the slave. His hands and knees ached, his eyes hurt from hours of close scrutiny, making sure all of the dirt had been cleaned out from each wound.

It was her feet that had been the worst, he was certain the cause of her fever was an infection in some of the wounds on the soles. He was no healer but the swelling and redness around her feet was a good indication that those wounds were more than likely her biggest problem. He replaced the damp cloth on her forehead and then set about laying out some blankets on the tent floor, in the form of a makeshift bed for himself. It was doubtful he would be able to get in much sleep but thought that it was at least worth an attempt.

With the blankets in place, he reached a hand over to check her forehead once more. The damp cloth was warm to touch from the heat that was radiating from her. Alistair dipped it back into the cool water before squeezing out droplets across the top of her head and then placing it back against her hot skin. With another clean cloth in his hand he tipped some water from the canteen on to it and squeezed drops out carefully across her dry lips. It was an attempt to at least get a small amount of fluids into her. He repeated the action with some of the liquid from the healing potion hoping that she swallowed at least some of it and that it would help. Afterwards he settled down on to the blankets in an attempt to try for at least some sleep.

Throughout the night, between dozing but never really sleeping, he continued to try getting some of the potion and some water across her dry lips and into her mouth. The cloth against her forehead was replaced regularly and her hair kept damp in the hopes of breaking the raging fever. She became restless more than once but even when her eyes opened they were unfocused and unseeing and each time they closed again shortly afterwards. It was difficult to tell if the result was due to the fever she had or the tranquilizer that had been used on her. What Alistair did know was that he couldn't remember a night that had felt as if it dragged on as long as that one had. Time spent hoping, more than he had ever wished for anything, that at least some of what he was doing would help her to recover.


	2. Chapter 2

Cool air brushed across her skin, absently her hand moved about the bed in search of a blanket that should have been within reach. Somewhere in the recess of her mind, through the haze of sleep, she tried to find familiarity under her touch. The bed covers weren't where she would normally find them to pull them up over her cool body. The fabric under her fingers felt, off. She couldn't place which set of sheets it belonged to. As her hand shifted further, the edge of the bed was far closer than it should have been and the curve on the side felt wrong. The lack of comfortable familiarity underneath the tips of her fingers as they searched brought her mind towards wakefulness. Otherwise, she would have happily rolled over to soak in the comfort of dozing for a time before getting up. As the haze of sleep faded, she became aware of two things. The first, her entire body was feeling cool air, not just her arms and legs that should have been poking out from under her sleepwear. The second was the fact that the bed she was sleeping on felt all wrong, it was hard and uncomfortable instead of soft and inviting, not at all how her bed should have felt.

Her eyes flickered open, forcing her to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. At first she thought somehow she must have been dreaming, that was until she remembered. After the series of events that had taken place at the annual ball, she wasn't at home. The last thing she remembered was stumbling through the forest, searing pain in her shoulder and then darkness.

 _Where am I and how in Andraste's name did I get here?_

Her eyes took in the green canvas walls and the bedroll she was laying on. Her ears listened and picked up the sounds of voices nearby. She remembered feeling groggy when the pain hit her and then arms grabbing her before she fell. Was she now in the hands of captors? Was it possible the templars had found her already? No, that was unlikely. It was an arrow that hit her and she had never met a templar who used a bow before. A shiver vibrated through her body, turning her awareness in on herself rather than her surroundings. Cool air brushed over her bare skin, raising goosebumps everywhere. Other than her small clothes she was completely undressed. The following shiver to vibrate through her body wasn't caused by the temperature. How long had she been out for and just what had been done to her without her knowledge?

Melina ran her fingers over one of the grazes on her arm and then raised them to her nose. Elfroot. Someone had covered her in elfroot salve. Many of the cuts already appeared as if they were healing although, as she wiggled her toes, pain crept across the base of her feet and traveled up her ankles. Her feet still hurt but she could feel salve on them as well. What kind of captors would take the time to clean and dress her injuries and why wasn't someone on guard watching to see if she woke?

Unease settled over her, too much didn't add up and was made worse by the fact that she had no idea what had taken place after the arrow had hit her. She cringed as she shifted, pain shot through her shoulder that felt like a blade slicing into flesh. Somehow she had gone from a comfortable life, to barely being able to move in the space of less than two weeks. So far she had survived on instinct alone, with no real skills outside of reading and dodging social events, that luck had clearly ran out.

With her heart hammering in her chest, she tried to reach for one of the blankets she could see folded upon the floor nearby. The pain in her shoulder stabbed at her each time she moved that arm and the further she tried to extend it, the worse the pain became until tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Damnit, she wasn't cut out for this kind of life, not at all. A soldier or a battlemage would have been able to bite through the pain and get themselves out of there before whomever their captives were, returned. She was neither of those things. She was nothing more than a pampered noble who spent her life hiding in the shadows of others.

Just as she was about to try shifting in a different direction, the flap of the tent opened and a gasp of surprise escaped her lips. There she was laying sprawled out on a bedroll dressed in no more than small clothes, as someone was coming into the tent. It didn't matter if it was the person responsible for stripping her in the first place, being seen like that by anyone was not acceptable. Least of all someone who may be a kidnapper or worse. Not to mention, at the very least, it was embarrassing. Her stomach clenched tightly, knowing that she was awake and completely at the other person's mercy wasn't a situation she would wish on even her worst enemy.

She could feel it underneath her skin, crawling and clawing at her. The magic coursed through her veins threatening to release itself again, if she wanted it to or not. Her fingers tightened, pressing into the palms of her hands as she could feel the heat rising in her fingertips.

 _Nononono. Not again. Not now._

"Maker's breath! I am sorry, I didn't realize you were.." the man stumbled and stammered his way through his words. He paused for a moment as if to take in a breath and gather his thoughts. She could see he was trying to look anywhere in the tent but at her. "I didn't realize you had woken."

Melina remained still and quiet, fighting back the magic that was threatening to unleash itself. Her hands clasped tighter, the growing heat felt as if it was burning her fingertips. With the intruders attention on anything but herself, it gave her a moment to study him. Although a moment was all she would allow given her state of undress. He seemed somehow to look familiar to her, yet she couldn't quite place it. The flush she could see rising on his skin suggested he was equally embarrassed by the current situation.

"Clothes," he blurted out into the silence of the tent. "You can borrow one of my shirts. If…. if you want."

She had a very good reason to want to be wary, even in the midst of his obvious discomfort. It was also irritating her that he looked so familiar and yet she couldn't place him. Carefully Melina raised herself into a sitting position, using her good arm to push up with. Even then it still tugged at the other shoulder and caused her to cringe in pain. Finally she spoke with a soft, almost timid voice, every word carefully selected. "What happened to my clothes?"

"They, ah, they-," he started. "I had to-," he tried again.

Melina kept her eyes on him. Even though in her upright position she was able to pull her legs up to her chest, so that she wasn't as exposed, it still wasn't enough cover for her liking. She was grateful for the fact that he kept his eyes averted and his back mostly to her. Whilst he struggled to come up with an explanation, she used her one good arm to help inch herself closer to the folded blankets.

"I'm sorry," he continued. "I couldn't clean your wounds properly with them in the way and well," he paused for a moment to swallow. "There is a small town a couple of hours back, I will send someone for some replacements but, they were so badly damaged that I disposed of them."

Melina's heart started thumping in her chest at his words. Finally she was close enough that she could reach her good arm over to grasp the edge of one blanket. Quickly she pulled it closer, and wrapped it around her body. "How?" she demanded, more forcefully than she had intended. In the pocket of her pants was the last piece of jewelry that she hadn't traded for supplies. She didn't trade it because she hadn't been able to bring herself to part with the one last thread left between herself and her home, who she used to be. One last thread that may be lost forever if she couldn't get hold of it again.

"I, ah, threw them into last night's campfire," he admitted as he shifted his feet uncomfortably.

"Oh," was all she could get out as her stomach churned. If the fire had been hot enough, her locket wouldn't have survived. It was very likely a melted pile metals amongst the ashes. The last thing she would ever have that said she had once been part of the Amell family, gone. The inside of the locket had been decorated with the family crest. Now she really was no more than a simple commoner and an apostate on the run.

"I guess I figured if I got you some new clothes, maybe something that would hold up to traveling better that it would be okay, he explained further. "I don't even think they would have held up to being washed."

"I have no coin to pay for new clothing, not even that made from the most basic of cloth," she responded. Let him think that was the reason she had been so concerned. If given the chance she could search the ashes of the fire, just in case. She didn't expect to find anything much of it left though.

"You don't have to worry about that, it is the least I can do," he was quick to assure her.

"I can't let you do that," she said. As an afterthought she also added, "Oh, by the way you can turn around now. I am covered."

Even after her remark about being covered, he still hesitated. His head turned slowly so that he could peak quickly, just to be sure she really was covered, before he turned to face her. "It is my fault that your original clothes got burned, I should have waited and asked you first. I insist on at least replacing them," he said firmly. Once he was facing her properly, rather than just a side view of his face, she knew for certain he was very familiar. She had seen him somewhere before, but where?

"I guess since you don't seem to be acting much like a kidnapper, it should be safe enough to agree." She was careful with her words and never once took her eyes from him. There had to be at least ten questions running through her mind and no idea how to raise them. Without ever having been in a situation like it before, she didn't even really know what she should be looking for when she watched him.

At her words, his eyes widened. "Oh-, oh. Of course, I'm sorry. I guess you probably have a lot of questions." She could see, as she watched, that his hands clasped and unclasped nervously by his side.

"Just a few," she agreed. Okay so chances were pretty high that he wasn't the one who had shot her with the arrow but, given how nervous he seemed, maybe he was working for the person who did. Maybe, she really was still in a whole world of trouble.

"There was blood," he started as his hands clasped again. "On the tree and footsteps and slavers. You were hurt so we brought you here and I-. I'm not really making much sense am I?" he asked as he unclasped his hands again.

"Not really," she admitted. Even with her heart still racing in her chest, she couldn't keep the humour out of her tone. He appeared to feel as nervous as she was scared.

He swallowed and drew in a deep breath. "Okay, let me try this again. Just please forgive me when I get to the part about removing your, ah, clothes."

He relaxed a little as he began to explain how he had found the fresh blood splatter on the tree and followed the footsteps to the slavers camp. He explained the fight that had followed and how he had carried her back to the camp she woke up in. He also told her about the fever she had and how he had tended to her wounds, that she had been out for about three days because of it. By the time he had finished telling the story, she couldn't help but think how very much it all sounded like the beginning of one of the cheesy romance stories she had read. The only thing that would clinch it would be finding out that he was a prince or som-. Then it hit her full force knocking the wind right out of her lungs. That was why he looked so familiar. He was a prince. Not just any prince either, he was Ferelden's prince and at the very same annual ball she had ran from. She knew that Prince Alistair Theirin was also a templar and she was in big trouble if she didn't get out of there quickly.

"Are you okay? You are looking a little pale," Alistair asked her with a hint of concern.

"I-, I'm fine," she lied. "Maybe I have just overdone it a little." What she really needed to do was get him out of there so she could think. He seemed a lot different up close and in person. The few times she had seen him previously had been when he was giving a speech in Denerim, or just briefly in passing. Those times he had been confident and sure of himself, not the nervous, hand clenching, cheek reddening man before her.

There had always been rumors about the King and his wife and from time to time, Alistair's name was also amongst those rumors. Speculation mostly that he was probably just as bad as his brother when it came to his interactions with woman and that was probably why he had yet to marry. The queen had failed to produce an heir so many believed it now fell to Alistair and that there had to be a reason why he had not yet taken a wife. Of course, she knew well enough not to put much stock in rumors. Often they were started by families who were trying to increase their own social standing, make themselves look better next to those who behaved even less appropriately. If they couldn't find someone like that, then they made it up. The only things she did know for certain was the fact that he wasn't married and that the queen had not yet produced a child. Most of the followers had given up faith that she ever would provide the throne with an heir.

"I should probably go and let you get some rest," Alistair responded as his eyes studied her pale cheeks. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped. "I just remembered. I was coming in to put some fresh elfroot salve on those cuts and scrapes of yours. You should be able to do that now but, umm," he hesitated, the colour rising almost instantly to his cheeks. Just as it had when he had first entered the tent. "The arrow wound goes right through and you have a couple of nasty cuts on your back. You probably won't be able to reach them yourself so, um, should I do those before I go?"

That time she was fairly certain her own cheeks must have matched his in colour. He was the prince and he was going to apply salve to her? More than that, to her bare back. That was usually the kind of thing a servant would take care of, for the prince to would be highly inappropriate and yet, what choice was there? "I-, I guess so. Do they still need it?"

"It's probably for the best, to prevent infection. My uncle always says to keep it on any wounds at least twice a day until they are healed. I also have a healing potion, I managed to have you drink a little when you were out, you should probably take the rest of that. Water as well, you are a little dehydrated, you should drink and Oh! Maker, you are probably starving. Do- do you want something to eat?" By the time he finally stopped he had been talking so quickly that she could barely keep up.

She pressed her lips together thoughtfully as she studied him. It would probably be much easier if she was actually good at reading people, instead of having spent a lifetime avoiding them. "You have done so much and yet you know nothing of me, who I am, where I have come from. Even my name. Why?"

"None of that matters," he replied. "You needed help, it was the right thing to do. I would like to think anyone who stumbled upon what I did, would have done the same."

"I think we both know they wouldn't have," she replied truthfully. She hadn't noticed the rumbles of her stomach, until it had been pointed out to her then she noticed little else. "I am a little hungry," she admitted. "One thing at a time though, I almost couldn't keep up with you. Let's get the medicine out of the way first," she suggested. Mainly because she didn't think she would be able eat with the nerves chipping away at her. The thought of exposing her bare back to a stranger was bad enough but a royal one? His hands would have to be touching her skin to apply the salve. Just the thought had the heat rapidly rising to her cheeks. It was so far from appropriate that it didn't even bare considering. The only people to have ever been that close to her, was her maids and her mother. Certainly not a man. Despite her mother's efforts, Melina had never met anyone who took her fancy. It didn't help that she was always too scared to allow anyone to get close to her because of the magic simmering under the surface, the fear that they would find out. That she had even managed to keep it from her family right up until the night of the ball was a miracle in itself. That was when everything had changed.

"Alright then," Alistair started and then cleared his throat. "Salve first it is." He carefully stepped around the bedroll and then knelt down behind her. "Just ah, uncovering your shoulders should be enough."

"Okay," she responded, wondering if her voice was as shaky as she felt. Drawing in a deep breath she lowered the blanket down over her shoulders, whilst holding it up at the front. She bit her lower lip and tried not to think of the situation she was in or the fact that he had seen far more whilst she was unconscious. Cold spread out over the shoulder opposite to the one the arrow wound was on, causing her to flinch at the suddenness.

"Sorry. I should have warned you that it is cold at first," he said apologetically as he carefully covered the wound. "You had a pretty nasty cut on this shoulder but it's looking a lot better already.

"I remember," she responded. "I let a tree branch go too soon, it flung back and hit me before I could get out of the way."

"I take it you don't normally spend much time walking around forests then?" he asked with a hint of curiosity.

Melina swallowed. She really needed to be more careful about what she said. It's natural that he would be curious about the person he had saved and, she had no reason to believe his story wasn't true. He had stumbled on her by accident but, if he knew anything of what happened at the ball one wrong comment could give her away. The less he knew the better. "Roads are usually the preferred method of travel."

Alistair chuckled, it sounded like a rumble from deep in his chest, "Right you are. The terrain is certainly more forgiving on the roads."

She couldn't hold back the hiss of pain that escaped her lips as he began applying the salve directly to the arrow wound. The entire area around the wound was tender and she was far from being accustomed to such pain, even though he was being exceptionally careful.

"I am sorry," he said again. "I am trying not to use too much pressure."

"You can stop apologizing," she said softly. "It's just a little sore and you are only trying to help. I am sure i would be in far worse shape if you had not."

"I am sorry," he said again. "I just don't want to hurt you. Oh… there I go apologizing again."

Melina couldn't help but chuckle at Alistair apologizing for apologizing too much and then regretted it as the vibration caused an entirely new sensation of pain to shoot through her shoulder. His apologetic nature was almost sweet, under different circumstances she may have even enjoyed more of his company but, the situation was unchangeable so there was no point in even entertaining such thoughts.

"Just remember who is currently tending to your sore shoulder, whilst you sit there laughing at him," Alistair remarked with mock offense.

"You're right. I am sorry," she replied and then another giggle escaped her.

"Hah! Now who is apologizing?" he asked smugly.

"At least I only did it once," she teased and then draw in a sharp breath.

"More pain?" he asked with a tone that had instantly turned serious.

"No. It's fine," she responded quickly. It had taken her by surprise to realize just how easily they had been joking and teasing. How easily, for a moment she had almost forgotten herself and the position she was in.

Even though the salve was cold as it first connected with her skin, the warmth of his fingers as he rubbed it in soon dispersed that first moment of discomfort. After days, lost and alone it almost felt good to have company and to feel safe, if only for a moment.

"There," he said, his voice breaking the silence that had fallen over them. "All done here. You can take this and apply it to the rest of your wounds. Don't forget your feet, I am fairly certain they were the source of the infection." He reached a hand around her and placed the small ceramic bowl of salve on the bedroll beside her. "May I ask? Why didn't you have shoes protecting your feet?"

Melina swallowed hard as she realized another lie would more than likely be her best chance of protecting her identity. To say that she and ran in heels to begin with was more information than she was willing to pass on. "They were stolen, about a week ago, perhaps a little longer."

There was only a few times in her life that she had lied to protect her magic and she remembered each one clearly. They were the only times she had ever lied about anything and her stomach always clenched tightly with guilt afterwards. This was no exception. Perhaps in a way, it was even worse because she was responding to kindness, with lies.

"What kind of an ass would steal someone else's shoes?" he asked with a sigh. Alistair pushed himself up to his feet and moved to the tents front flap. "I will return in a moment with some food."

Melina reached for the salve, her fingers clasping the side of the bowl and nodded, "That does sound good. Thank you, for everything you have done."

As their eyes met across the tent he hesitated for a moment with his hand holding the flap partially open. "I'm Alistair by the way," he added. She could see the colour sneak it's way up his neck to his cheeks. "Do-. Do you have a name?"

Melina hesitated, her answer catching in the back of her throat. Another lie and this time right to his face. "Kate. Just call me Kate." Was it technically not a lie when she didn't say 'my name is'? Probably not, the implication was still there which was just as bad as a direct lie.

He responded with a short nod before he left, leaving the tent through the flap that he had arrived through.

Melina let out a long breath, she would have to find a way to leave the camp. Staying was far too dangerous, she had already come close to losing control over her magic once. Too close and at least out there on her own, she wouldn't have to keep lying to people who only believed they were trying to help.

Alone in the tent she lowered the blanket for a moment and scooped some of the salve onto her fingers. It was a strange texture, slightly oily and a little rough, making it almost feel as if there was sand included in the ingredients. She knew that was the effect of the elfroot, as a child she had always been curious about everything. There had been many time she watched the maid servants makeup salve just like it. There were also many more times that it had been applied to the small scrapes she always managed to acquire. At least that was until the day she accidentally discovered her magic. Then she chose her room and reading. Isolation over adventuring and socializing.

That day had started off like any other. She had not long begun reading lessons and was grateful for the chance to finally get out into the fresh air and sunshine. She had been running through the estate's gardens when a small branch came loose from the tree above and landed at her feet. The sudden movement had startled her, almost instantly ice had formed at her fingertips and froze the branch, leaves at all. She stood there staring at it, her hands shaking fiercely. There were always stories to be heard about magic, even for a young child. Terrible frightening stories. Those with magic turned into horrible creatures that hurt people, they had to be taken from their families and locked up. She didn't want to leave her family, her home, everyone she loved. At just six years old she stood there trembling, knowing that if anyone ever found out she had magic she would be locked away forever. As scared as she was at the possibility of becoming a monster that might hurt people, she was even more afraid of being alone forever. Of being taken from those she loved. She clenched her fingers tightly and told herself she would never use her magic so that she would never be sent away. It was a promise that she kept for all of those years, never intentionally using her magic but, it was always there under the surface threatening to release itself.

A hiss of pain escaped her lips as she pressed the salve to the front side of the arrow wound. It wouldn't do any harm to at least tend to her wounds one more time and have a meal before she left. It would be difficult to sneak out when Alistair was probably already on his way back anyway and her stomach growled painfully at the thought of food. If she was out for three days, and all she had to eat the two days before that was a small amount of bread than it had been far too long since she last had a decent meal. She would need all the strength she could hold on to. Now that she knew he was the prince, she also didn't have to feel quite so guilty about allowing some generosity. There was no doubt he could afford it.

She did know far too many suffered at the lack of compassion shown by King Cailan, which may or may not be a view shared by his brother. Still, it wouldn't hurt to let them give something back. It was just a shame more couldn't benefit from it. She couldn't help but wonder how much Alistair was aware of, or even responsible for as well. He certainly didn't appear to have any problems standing by his brother in a show of support, yet he had helped her without a second thought. That showed at least some amount of compassion on his part that his brother seemed to lack.

Melina shook her head, none of it would matter as she wouldn't be there long enough to answer the questions she had, even if he wasn't exactly what she had expected.

She was carefully applying some salve to the wounds on her legs when Alistair's head appeared at the tent's flap. Quickly she covered the blanket back over her bare legs, to be certain she wasn't showing too much. He had a sizable bowl of stew between both of his hands which he carefully placed in front of her.

"Straight out of the pot," he said almost beaming at his ability to return with something so freshly made. She realized as she looked at him again that he couldn't have been much older than she was. At times he had an almost boyish expression that was kind of sweet. Like it was when he presented the bowl of fresh stew. "I've asked for a warm dish of water to be sent over as well, ah, in case you wanted to wash up. Not that you don't already look amazing-," suddenly he stopped short at his own words, the colour quickly rising to his cheeks. "I mean, I didn't want you to think I-."

"It's okay," she assured him. "It might be nice to freshen up and wash the dirt out of my hair." She wrinkled her nose in distaste, she'd made the mistake of running her fingers through it when she was tending to her injuries. The matting and knots she had felt in her normally smooth, well groomed hair had made her cringe. It had served as a reminder that her days of enjoying even the most basic luxury's was most likely gone forever. It was a small thing compared to knowing she would never be able to return home to her family though. Just thinking about them burned the backs of her eyelids but, she couldn't break down. There was no time for tears or feeling sorry for herself, not if she wanted to survive.

Instead she turned her attention to the bowl and her complaining stomach. That at least was one thing she could mend, for the moment. She barely felt the sting of heat on her tongue and throat as she quickly swallowed down the first spoonful and then the one that hastily followed.

"Hey," Alistair said softly, she hadn't even noticed that he was still watching her. "It's been at least three days since you have had a good meal, slow down a bit. You don't want it coming straight back up again."

She stopped just as the next spoonful was about to hit her mouth, holding it hovering in front. He was right, she could already feel the stew she had consumed weighing heavily in her stomach and a bought of nausea threatening to expel it. "I guess I was more hungry than I thought. Thank you for the warning."

"Just take it easy, small sips with a little meat to follow and you should be okay." He moved to sit down at the end of her bedroll with a look of concern on his face. "When was the last time you had some food, even before you were captured?"

"A few days I guess, other than a little bread," she shrugged and then had another much smaller mouthful of stew. There was no point in making a big deal out of the difficulty she'd had in acquiring food.

"How did you come to be out here alone?" he finally asked. She had been expecting a similar question to arise at some point and was really only surprised that it had taken so long for him to ask.

"I-," she hesitated for a moment to draw in a sharp breath. "I would really rather not talk about it," she finally responded. At least by not talking about it, she didn't have to come up with another lie.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I had no right to pry."

"No. I am the one who is sorry," she responded softly. "You have already done so much for me and asked for nothing in return. There are just some things that are better forgotten." In a way, she regretted not being able to tell him, or anyone for that matter. It was difficult always keeping that secret. Of fearing what would happen if someone discovered the truth and worst of all it was difficult never having anyone to share those fears with. She would give almost anything to just once, have someone tell her everything would be okay. That she would be okay. It was nothing more than a dream, she was cursed with magic and always would be. It was never really going to be okay.

"You don't have to explain," he reassured her. "Please don't think that you own me for anything."

"By the sound of it, I owe you my life. Who knows where those slavers would have me by now if it wasn't for you." If only everything wasn't always so complicated.

"I just did what I thought was right. What anyone should have done in my place, even if not all would," he said truthfully.

"Like I said earlier, it's unlikely anyone else would have. At least, very few," she added with regret.

"That is the problem with Thedas, too many out for their own gain. At least there's still enough good people around to make it worthwhile fighting for," he mused.

"I know who you are," she admitted finally. "Even though you didn't give me more than your first name."

"Ah, I guess it was too much to hope for." Was it her imagination or did his shoulders droop with her confession and his words?

"What was it that you were hoping for?" she asked curiously. Most of the people she knew where quick to show off their titles and social status.

"It's nothing important," he responded and then shifted to stand. "I should let you get some rest. I will also chase down that warm water for you."

"Thank you," she said, holding back a sigh of relief. At least if he was going, there would be no more questions and she wouldn't be forced to give more lies in response to them.

True to his word, Alistair did track down the bowl of warm water for her, he returned shortly afterwards with one of his guards in tow. They remained only long enough to deliver the water for washing up, as well as a fresh pitcher of drinking water and the healing potion. Then they left her alone to rest up, or so they thought. It was a suggestion she would have liked to follow, especially with sharp pains shooting through her shoulder every time she tried to move too much but, there just wasn't the time.

Once she was certain no one else was going to disturb her for a while, Melina quickly drank down the healing potion, followed by some fresh water. A small search around the tent was all she needed to find Alistair's spare clothing in a swag off to one side of the tent. Clearly they were far too big for her but she would have to make do. The large bowl of clean washing water was too inviting to ignore so she carefully, or at least as carefully as it was possible, cleaned the remaining dirt from her body. The scent of fresh soap began replacing the scent of dirt and sweat as she took a moment to breath in deeply and savour the aroma, knowing that it would be short lived. The last thing she attempted was washing her hair, leaning over the wash bowl put an extra strain on the arrow wound and took her breath away as she dipped her hair into the water.

The real challenge proved to be scrubbing the soap through her filthy hair with only one arm that she could raise high enough to reach the top of her head. By the time she managed to work up a lather through her hair, her fingers on that one hand had started to ache from scrubbing at the built up dirt. With each scrub of her fingers against her scalp, her chest tightened and the backs of her eyelids started to burn. She fought a battle with herself to keep her mind away from her family and on the task at hand. It was a battle that she wasn't winning. It was hard not to think about her mother's smiling face as she pulled open the curtains each morning to let the warm sun stream into her room. It was even harder not to think of the warm arms of her father as he hugged her each morning before leaving for work and the tender kiss he always dropped onto her forehead.

She missed them terribly and couldn't help but wonder what they were doing at that moment.

Did they miss her as she missed them? Or were they too horrified by what she had done to ever want to speak with her again? A couple of tears slid their way down her cheeks before she dipped her hair back into the bowl and began to wash out the soap. The water fast turned from being clear, to being a mixture of soap and dirt while her blonde locks of hair started to return to their natural colour.

The prospect of being out there in the woods alone again, wasn't a welcomed one. She just couldn't risk Alistair, a templar, discovering her magic. Once the soap was out of her hair, she rung the water out as best she could with one arm. The moment it was flung back over her shoulders, cold droplets were already running down her back.

She pulled on a white button-up top with a cringe and a gasp of pain when she tried to get it up over her bad shoulder. Pausing for a moment, she drew in a few deep breaths and tried again, finally managing to pull the shirt up into place. The top buttons took longer to fasten with one hand but eventually she did up the last one and then reached for the pair of too large, brown leather pants. She fastened them to her waist with a belt that almost wrapped around it twice, she was certain it must have looked as ridiculous as it felt but, at least she was covered. Maybe the excess material would keep her warmer when nightfall hit.

The last thing she did was take some of the leftover strips of material Alistair had left by the bedroll and sit on the end. Dipping them in salve she used them to carefully bind her feet. The skin on the bottoms, although it had started to repair and heal was still very thin and weak, it didn't take much movement for the new growth to threaten breaking again. All she could do was hope the bindings would at least be a little less painful then bare feet.

At the flap of the tent she paused and listened intently to the direction of the voices outside, and their distance away from her. Once she was confident they seemed to be far enough away she plucked up the courage to open the flap up a crack and peer out. A glance around confirmed that no one was close or looking in her direction.

Holding her breath she stepped outside and quickly ducked around to the side of the tent that was furthest away from the main camping area. Her heart was hammering in her chest so she stopped there for a moment to draw in another breath and listen. The voices remained at the same distance away, from what she could tell none of them had noticed movement in her direction. The tree line was only a few feet away, with any luck she could make a run for it and vanish between them before anyone even knew she was gone. Just when she thought she was in the clear and was about to attempt the dash, a voice spoke up from behind.

"Leaving us already?" he asked.

She spun around in the direction of the voice with a gasp of surprise and found herself face to face with Alistair. She hadn't seen him over with the others because he must have already been on his way to check on her. His expression was surprisingly unreadable considering how easily she had seen his earlier fumbling and discomfort. "I just-," she started and then let out a sigh. "It's for the best."

"The best for what?" he asked. "Clearly not for you with injuries like that."

"Please, don't think I am not grateful for your help," she almost pleaded. "If I could explain, I would," she knew her voice cracked as she spoke, she could feel it. Was he going to try and restrain her? What if he already knew who she was and had only been nice to keep her cooperating with him for the time being? Slowly she took one step backwards, followed by another and then another.

Alistair's expression softened almost instantly, along with the tone in his voice. "It's okay. I am not going to hurt you, or try to stop you if leaving is your choice. All I ask is for you to take a look at yourself and your options. You can barely even walk. Your feet are already bleeding again. Whatever it is that you are scared of, I promise you that you will be safe here. At least until you have healed."

"I really wish I could believe that," she responded sadly with a soft voice. He may believe what he is telling her is the truth at that moment but, she knew it would all change in an instant if he discovered her secret. He was a templar, it wasn't just against the law for mages to be outside of the circles, it was also his job to ensure they weren't.

"You can. No matter what it is, I promise you will be protected for as long as you are here," he said again. She could see the sincerity in his expression and she really wanted to believe that she could be safe somewhere, even just for a little while.

Her feet were already stinging again, just from the few steps she had taken to get outside of the tent. They hadn't healed well enough to tolerate being walked on again. Out there it would be cold, lonely and painful, also very likely deadly if she picked up another infection. Or ran into more bandits. At the camp it was warmer, dryer and there was at least the premise of safety for the time being. She had kept her magic a secret for years, maybe a few extra days wouldn't hurt. Of the two risks, just maybe Alistair's offer was the best choice for the time being.

"Okay," she said with hesitation. "I will stay for now, just until I am healed."

She was almost certain the ghost of a smile crossed his features as he gave her a small nod, "You won't regret it. You will see."


	3. Chapter 3

AN Hi all! I am very sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I am not the fastest writer around due to various RL reasons but it always swings back eventually. Thank you for those who have stayed with me, I hope you enjoy this next chapter :)

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Alistair wiped at his brow after tossing two more logs onto the pile that would serve as the campfire for the night. Even with the cooler air of winter threatening to arrive any day, he had still managed to work up a sweat. At least they should have enough firewood to keep it going for the night, the location they had chosen was never intended to be more than a day or so stop over, instead they had been there for almost two weeks. Kates injuries were healing well, her feet almost upto the task of traveling again.. That was a subject that he had not been game enough to raise, in case it reminded her that she wasn't intending to stay. Of course he knew how crazy that really was but, the longer she remained in the camp, the longer he knew for certain she was safe. Out there alone just wasn't safe for anyone, especially not a young lady who didn't appear to have any means of defending herself. It reminded him again of the question that had yet to be answered, why? How did she come to be out there alone? In fact, she said very little most of the time, beyond a thank you or some other polite but simple response. She spent most of the time in the tent, at first the need for her rest was to be expected but now, it was more like she was avoiding any interactions.

The only time she ever left the tent was to pick up her food to take back inside and eat, or to go for a small stroll every day. He hadn't followed her but he did make sure one of the guards kept a close eye on her safety. She never strayed too far from the camp, it was more than likely a need to stretch her legs and get some fresh air. The mystery surrounding their guest was almost driving him insane with curiosity. Who wouldn't want to know what the story was in his position? In those first days, he had expected more of his questions to have been answered when she finally woke, instead he was fairly certain he only had more questions every day and no more answers.

His eyes traveled to the tent that originally had been assigned to him, just in time to spot Kate as she returned from her daily walk. Her blonde hair was pinned neatly behind her head. A couple of days earlier, Alistair had taken a trip back to the closest town, although she had insisted it wasn't necessary. He managed to acquire some nice, sturdy leathers for her. Nothing too fancy, she had already appeared to be uncomfortable enough just by the suggestion and he hadn't wanted to risk making that discomfort worse. It appeared as if he guessed her size correctly, as the leathers fit her body snuggly, showing every perfect curve. He groaned inwardly, maybe he had guessed a little too well.

"She seems to be a lot stronger now," Karan, one of the guards commented as he came to a stop beside Alistair.

"She does," he replied, having some idea of just where the conversation might be heading.

"So, she should be moving on soon," Karan continued. "We should be as well. You do have your Templar duties that require your attention."

"Yes, I am well aware of my responsibilities. It would have been wrong for me to ignore someone who was in trouble however." He was fighting internally with himself not to stand there and tap his foot. Maybe he needed to hear what Karan was heading towards but that didn't mean he wanted to hear it.

"You have already fulfilled that responsibility and seen to it that she was returned to health. Now it is time to relinquish her in favor of more important duties," Karan folded his arms as he stepped in front of his prince.

"Where is she going to go?" he asked absently. His eyes were still locked on to the tent that Kate had just disappeared into.

"I would assume wherever she was heading before your valiant rescue from the bandits. It really is not our concern now," Karan responded firmly. "Or even any of our business for that matter."

"If she runs into more bandits? She clearly has no real combat skills. I wonder which direction she was heading in." Alistair asked each question out loud. Questions that had been running through his head since her arrival. There were still so many others, all unanswered.

"Whatever it is you are thinking, I am sure it is probably a really bad idea," Karan insisted.

"She seems harmless enough," he replied.

"They always do," Karan claimed warily.

"It is probably a bad idea but, I have to know that she will be safe. So if she agrees to travel with us then I can make sure that happens," Alistair said with determination as he turned his eyes away from the tent to look at Karan.

"This is the kind of behaviour I would expect to see from your brother, risking everything just to impress unknown girl who is probably trouble. You are usually smarter than that," Karan complained.

I am nothing like Cailan," Alistair hissed. Tension built up in his shoulders instantly, his hands clenching tightly by his side. How dare anyone, accuse him of being anything like his failure of a brother. "I simply do not think it is safe for her to travel across these lands on her own."

"It isn't safe for anyone but people do it all the time and live to tell the story. The choice is theirs to make," Karan insisted.

"With any luck, she will have an alternative choice that she will take instead. In the meantime begin preparations for travel to commence," Alistair directed, giving a clear indication that he was done with the conversation. As much as the guards that had been assigned to him were unafraid of questioning his choices or speaking their mind, they also knew enough to follow his orders when they were given.

"As you wish your Highness but," he called out to Alistair's retreating back. "I still think this is a very bad idea."

"Noted," Alistair called back. "It is a good thing this is not your decision to make." Like his brother, seriously? His brother would never have stopped to help her in the first place. He certainly wouldn't think twice about casting her to the wolves once he was bored with her. No, he was nothing at all like his brother.

He drew in a deep breath as he came to a stop just outside of the closed tent flap. Carefully he cleared his throat. "May I come in?" He wished that his heart rate would slow just a little but, he was desperately hoping she would agree to his offer. That she would take the safer alternative when it was presented to her. It had nothing at all to do with the fact that she was pretty and sweet and that he spent the first three days of her time in camp by her bed praying that she would wake up. Well maybe it had a little to do with the last part, it was perfectly normal to want to her to remain in good health after that, right?

His thoughts were interrupted by her voice from inside. "It's your tent," she responded softly.

"It still wouldn't be polite to just walk right in. I relinquished temporary ownership to you. I wouldn't want to umm, risk walking in on you in an indecent state," he responded with an amused tone. At least he hoped it was more amused, and less nervous than he felt.

"You can come in," she tried again with the same soft tone. He wondered if she always spoke that quietly or if she intended it that way around him to make it more difficult to read her.

Inside she was sitting in the middle of the bedroll with her legs crossed and one of the books he had picked up in town, sitting open on her lap. She had mentioned enjoying reading, so he had mulled it over when walking past the stand with the books, multiple times, before finally deciding to include a couple with the clothing items he had acquired. Afterwards, he chickened out on telling her the books were a gift and pretended that they had been with him all along, asking instead if she would like to borrow them. He hadn't wanted to spook her, not when she had been so hesitant about the clothes when he first mentioned purchasing some.

"The clothes look good," he said and then instantly felt the colour rising to his cheeks. "I mean, they uh, fit well. I wasn't sure of your size."

"They are perfect, thank you." As she spoke, her eyes were cast downwards and her fingers absently flicked at the corner of the book.

"Well that's good. I am glad you like them, I uh, wasn't sure what style you prefer either so I just went with something practical." He shifted from one foot to the other, and then back again. More times then he could keep count of. It shouldn't be so difficult to ask her if she wanted to travel with them. Really the safety in numbers should be a simple decision for her and yet, he had the sinking feeling that she wouldn't agree.

Faced with his extended pause, she was the one to break the silence. "Was there something you needed?" she asked politely.

He thought it would probably help him to concentrate a little easier if her voice didn't reach out to him like the melody of a song that he couldn't rip himself away from. "Right," he responded nervously before drawing in a deep breath. He had faced down his brother in the castle's chambers, in front of twenty men to try and convince them to ease up a little on Ferelden's policies regarding apostate mages, he could talk to one woman alone and convince her to remain in safety. Especially when it was in her own best interests.

"We have delayed for as long as we are able," Alistair began. "Tomorrow we will have to continue our journey towards Kinloch Hold."

"Oh. I see," she said in a way that made reading her, almost, impossible. For just a brief flicker he thought there was disappointment in her eyes. He brushed it aside figuring more than likely it was just his overactive imagination, wanting to see something that wasn't really there. "Should I pack and be on my way now, or will the morning suffice? I… don't want to hold you up any longer than I have already."

"Stay," he blurted out instantly. His voice sounded abnormally husky even to his own ears. "I mean, travel with us for a time. If you are heading in the same direction anyway, it will be safer."

"I don't think that is such a good idea," she replied.

"Traveling out there, on your own, is a better one?" he bit out harsher than he intended. He was taking her rejection personally, too personally. He had seen her fear at times, when she thought no one was looking. If she was so scared though, why wouldn't she remain where it was clearly safer?

"You only traveled with enough horses for your current group. I don't think your friends will like the extra addition slowing you down," she said quietly.

"You heard Karan's objections a moment ago, didn't you?" he asked as it suddenly clicked into place.

"He is just doing his job, looking out for the safety of Ferelden's prince. That's why he is here isn't it?" she asked.

"I am very capable of looking out for my own safety," he insisted firmly. He'd had just about enough of people trying to tell him what to do just because of some title he had never asked for and certainly never wanted.

"Of course," she said calmly. "However a slower travel time does leave you exposed for longer. That means more time for something to go wrong. Just how many groups out there would love to get their hands on someone of your stature? Maybe to bribe your family?"

Alistair scoffed, "They would be wasting their time. I doubt Cailan would pay anything for my release, in coin or favours." He let out a frustrated sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair. She was resisting, finding every excuse not to stay with them. He should have just left it at that, if she didn't want to there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe the thought of being around him any longer repulsed her? He had seen her glances sometimes when she thought he wasn't looking. It was as if she was expecting him to turn into some kind of demon, there had been distrust in her eyes and at times, distaste. Was he really that repulsive to be around? Other times she looked softer, grateful and even surprised. Why did he want her to travel with them so badly, when clearly she didn't want that as well? Was it to prove something to her?

"I have burdened you and your people for long enough,' she said quietly. "I know when the toleration of my presence is wearing thin."

"Just because of Karan?" he spat out. "I never even wanted them tagging along on this trip to begin with. I want you to travel with us," he exclaimed loudly. "I- ah- I mean I would feel better, knowing you are safe."

Alistair was sure he could feel the colour rapidly rising to his cheeks, at least he assumed it was there with the heat he could feel. It was certainly time to stop talking before he embarrassed himself further and potentially scared her running out of the camp. Regaining some amount of courage, he managed to raise his eyes slowly to meet hers. Her expression had shifted, changed, she looked so stricken, lost and undecided. In the corners of her eyes was a dampness that hadn't been there before, at least he was fairly certain he hadn't missed it in his frustration.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-." he started. The last thing he had wanted to do was upset her.

"No," she said quickly, cutting him off. "It's just-, it wasn't supposed to end like this," she added with a sob. Quickly she wiped at her eyes as if she was chiding herself for getting upset. Or maybe it was him seeing that she didn't like. After a moment she looked back at him, her eyes hardening, the tilt of her jawline setting. "I will remain if that is your wish, on one condition," her eyes lowered and it took a moment for him to figure out what she was looking at. "You teach me how to use that."

"My sword?" he asked.

"Well, a sword but, yes. I need to learn how to defend myself and you clearly know how to use one," she said calmly.

"I've never actually taught anyone else before," he commented, mulling over the implications. Karan would hate it for sure, he already had no trust for the girl but, there was just something about the way she had switched. She had gone from looking so fragile and scared one moment to looking completely determined the next, it was... admirable. How could he say no to that?

"You can try though, right? Someone must have taught you." She looked so hopeful, her big light blue eyes, like the colour of the hinterlands sky on a clear day, almost pleading with him. It was the longest she had seen her drop her defenses.

He couldn't say no to that, or to her. "Okay, if that's what it takes, I will try and teach you. Out here it's probably for the best anyway."

The smile that tugged at the corner of her lips was infectious, he could see she was trying to fight it, to hold it back but it refused to comply. He found himself smiling back. If was right and it turned out that there was a reason to be concerned about her presence. If he found that sword one day turned on him, he hoped to at least be able to look into those big blue eyes one last time.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For everything."

Really it was impossible to even consider her as any kind of threat. He couldn't even explain how he knew that, only that he just did. If there was trouble surrounding Kate, he doubted it was of her own doing.

With her agreement, the only thing facing him was to walk back out of the tent, leaving h er for the remainder of the day and night to her own devices. He didn't really know what it was that had upset her but maybe, leaving her there for hours alone wasn't the best idea, for her. Not because he wanted to spend more time with her. No, definitely not that.

"There's, umm, still a few more daylight hours left, if you wanted to make a start on that training today. That is if you think your shoulder is well enough," he stammered awkwardly. _Real smooth Alistair._

Her eyes flicked down to the book she was still holding in her hands before returning to his. Maker, he couldn't ever remember seeing eyes that blue before. "It hurts a little but, I am sure it will be fine."

Was it his imagination or dhd she seem a little less certain about training then she had when she practically demanded it?

"Okay then, well I will go and get set up. There is a perfect clearing just the other side of camp. Head on over when you are ready." After a small nod of agreement from Kate, he politely made his leave, somehow without fumbling or tripping. His mind was already buzzing with ideas on how to start training someone he was fairly certain had never held a sword before. Really, how could Karan look at Kate and think for a second she was any kind of danger to the camp?

Two of his guards were seated on the logs by the camp's fire, Alistair gave the men a short nod of greeting on his way past. With a quick glance up at the sky, he realised they didn't have as much light time left as he had first thought. Hopefully it would be enough to make a decent start, he didn't want her overdoing it yet anyway. Not while her shoulder was still recovering from the arrow wound. His own experiences told him just how painful they could be. At least the harrow had gone right through, so she hadn't tried to pull the thing out with the ridged tip still embedded in her - as he had done before learning what a mistake that had been. Just the thought almost made him shudder, at least he knew now never to repeat that particular action.

After stopping by one of the supply carts, he stumbled his way under the weight of extra swords and shields to the clearing he had mentioned. The cooler air had seen to it that the grass was relatively short, trees lined the outskirts with only one other, almost directly centre of the field. More than enough space for them to work around that one tree. At least out there, he wouldn't have to deal with his guards watching on suspiciously or the comments he knew they would make when she proved to be mostly ineffective at combat yet. She would need confidence, not humiliation he suspected. They could be particularly harsh towards, women training.

Carefully he laid the selection of three different swords and shields down on the ground, not knowing which she would prefer. If she even had a preference at all which he doubted. His own training had started at such a young age, he could barely even remember how his training started. It was required to have some defense against bandits when working on the farm, they would often target such places for supplies, food, water and other activities that he didn't even want to consider. By the time he had joined the Templars, although he learned more from them, he had already been fairly proficient with the sword. So, where did he start with her?

There wasn't much time to consider the answer to that question before he saw her approaching. She looked, positively uncomfortable as she made her way across the camp. So uncomfortable that it was almost, amusing. The movements of her arms and legs were stiff, almost as if someone had attached wooden splints to her limbs in order to prevent movement. Of course, no one had. She was simply dressed in the full leather armor he had purchased for the sole purpose of protecting her arms and legs; should she decide to go traipsing around the woods on her own again.

Alistair studied her closely as she reached his position. The armor looked to be a good fit, none of the pieces appeared to be damaged or badly tailored so why was she so awkward in it? Leather provided at least some freedom of movement unlike a suit of plate or chain mail. It was just leather. It was very difficult to try and keep the amusement out of his tone, in fact he was fairly certain he failed in that attempt. "Are you… okay?" he asked.

Kate squared her shoulders, somewhat awkwardly and met his eyes with a stubborn tilt to her jaw. If he was honest, it was actually kind of cute the way she was trying to look tough and failing miserably. "I'm fine," she said firmly. "Where did you need me?"

"You know, the armor is not really necessary if you would prefer something else. It's only training. I am not intending to hit you with my sword, or even swing it at you today for that matter," he said, still struggling to hold back the laughter that wanted to escape, especially when she looked so.. serious.  
"I don't recall ever seeing a sword fighter not in armor," she remarked. "This is the only armor I have, it will do just fine. Shall we begin?"

There wasn't really much he could say to that, it was obvious to him that she was going to struggle fiercely wearing that armor the way she was. It was equally as obvious that nothing he could say, or do would change her mind. "Erm, sure," he responded. "I wasn't certain what kind of sword might interest you so I've laid out one of each that we have available," he motioned to the setup spread out on the ground. "Have you ever used one before?"

"A little," was all she offered by way of an answer.

"Well, go ahead and choose a sword. I'll grab a shield which can be your target and then we can see what area's of your form need work," he said as he leaned down to grab one of the shields.

"My form?" she asked looking down at her body for a moment. "It needs work?"

There was that heat rising to his cheeks again at her misinterpretation of his words. Did she think he had been studying her body? For that matter, had he been looking overly long at her? If he managed to get through the afternoon it would be a miracle. "The way you move with the sword, your swing, hold, stance that form," he explained.

"Oh," she stated. Were her cheeks flushing? Maybe it was the heat of the armor that caused the splash of colour over them. That was probably more likely and he just hadn't noticed at first. "So, how about this one?" Kate pointed to the first sword on the ground and without waiting for a response, she proceeded to awkwardly bend over in that armor to pick it up.

It was so expected that he could almost see it happening before it did. She curled her fingers around the hilt of the sword and tried to lift it. The expression on her face was one of pure surprise when the sword didn't budge, not even a little. She had vastly underestimated the weight of the solid metallic weapon.

With her fingers still clenched tightly around the hilt, she tugged again. That time it lifted just slightly from the ground at one end, with the blade still firmly planted. There just wasn't enough strength in her grip to lift the weapon even a inch from the surface. With a hiss of frustration her fingers slipped from the hilt, the sword dropping snuggly back against the grass.

He couldn't, the laughter bubbling under the surface refused to stay there it burst forward, loudly. The confusion on her face when the weapon had refused to budge was just too much. His sides hurt as he clutched them, uncontrollable laughter echoing across the clearing. Maker, he couldn't even catch a breath.

As he finally managed to gasp a few breaths and settle the laughter rolling through his body, Alistair could just barely see her standing with her head down, through his tear blurred eyes. Roughly he wiped at them which helped his vision to clear. The splash of colour that had been across her cheeks was at least two times brighter and traveled all the way up to the tips of her ears.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, fighting to contain himself. "I didn't mean to-, it's just that-, your face, the look," he stammered, laughter bubbling inside and spilling out as his mind replayed the moment over, and over.

"Are they made of led? Did you do this on purpose?" she hissed.

It took a moment for it to register but when it did he realised with a start that she really was not amused. At all. She looked, outside of embarrassed, he wasn't really sure what she looked. There was something in her eyes that wasn't as clear.

"Of course not," he exclaimed, sobering up quickly. "I wouldn't do that. Have you ever really used a sword before? At all?" he asked.

Her shoulders dropped and slowly she shook her head. There was something so, purely vulnerable in the way she that she confessed. "No. It hasn't really come up before," she said softly, her eyes still cast down to an unknown spot on the ground. "I thought maybe you might change your mind, if you knew how incompetent I really am."

Alistair let out a breath, asking himself again what it was that she could be running from, clearly her life had been totally different before he stumbled upon her. At the very least sheltered but, he suspected also privileged. He knew of a great many noble families across ferelden but had only met a few by comparison. Was she from one of them? If so, why was she now running? She hadn't demanded to be taken home so clearly leaving had been her own choice. In fact he couldn't recall her mentioning home at all.

"I agreed to train you didn't I?" he asked without really expecting an answer. "I keep my word, even if the task proves to be a challenge."

"How can you teach someone who can't even lift a blasted sword?" she asked with a frustrated tone. It was clear then that her frustration was more at herself. "Don't even get me started on this armor!"

He rocked back on his heels as he folded his armors. After already suggesting she didn't need to be so geared up, it was impossible not to feel a little smug. "You did choose to ignore me when I suggested it wasn't required," he said, amusement creeping back into his tone.

"And now you're laughing at me again," she responded. For just a moment he couldn't tell if she was serious, upset or something else entirely. Until a smile began to tug at the corner of her lips, slowly spreading until it reached her eyes which, finally raised to meet his.

Maker, he couldn't breathe for an entirely different reason. Smiling looked good on her and the laughter that followed was as soft and sweet as her voice. Almost musical and definitely something he wanted to hear more of. He was in big, big trouble.

"I must look a sight," she admitted with a soft chuckle. "I twould also appear as if I have wasted your time, I am sorry."

"Time can only be wasted when it is not freely given," he replied gently. "Also, don't be so quick to give up. I couldn't have picked up one of those swords in the beginning either. They are rather heavy, by necessity. A blade that is too thin is also too weak, it would snap before it could do any real damage." If he was honest with himself, he was having a difficult time seeing the fragile woman in front of him freely using a weapon. Especially not ever actually using it on someone. It was just an image his mind couldn't muster when looking at her, or maybe it didn't want to. Now that her wounds were mostly healed, her skin was flawless, smooth, free of scars and blemishes caused by the life of a fighter or a warrior. Her shoulder would be scarred of course, but it was covered by the armor. She also lacked the hardness in her expression of a seasoned warrior, she was softer. It was difficult to imagine that changing.

"So, how did you overcome that particular obstacle?" she asked with renewed interest. "I have a hard time picturing you fumbling around as I just was."

"Strengthening the muscles in your armors," he responded easily. "For me that wasn't so difficult. Not working on a farm. There was always stables to muck out, holes to dig for fences. Shovels can be very heavy, not as heavy as a sword but it was a good starting point."

Her eyebrows raised with clear surprise. "Didn't your family have workers for jobs like that? It's hard to imagine a Prince mucking out stables or building fences."

Alistair snorted, "Yes. I am fairly certain Cailan wouldn't have spent a day in his life on such tasks. My situation was a little.. Different." It was also a topic he didn't enjoy going into great detail about. Of course that was more due to wishing the farm was still his life rather than being embarrassed about it as one might expect. "Anyway, clearly we aren't on a farm out here either but I may have a few ideas. It will take some time of course, it won't happen overnight but we can work on strengthening your arm muscles while we are traveling."

"Do I want to know what the ideas entail?" she asked warily.

Alistair chuckled with a slight shake of his head. "It won't be completely painless," he admitted. "You may even curse me from time to time but, you will see. I will show you the first step in the morning, as we prep to move camp."

Kates nose wrinkled in displeasure, no doubt at the fact that he wasn't giving away all of the details but hey, he needed to get in a little fun while he could. Before she started cursing him for aching muscles.  
"It's probably for the best that you give your shoulder another night of rest anyway. It is later than I thought it was, dinner will be up soon and what's left of the sun will be down. I, ah," he hesitated for a moment. Looking into those bright blue eyes was distracting and somehow had a way of stealing his words. "That is you always seem to end up eating alone. Would you, ah, like to have dinner out by the campfire tonight?"

"Will the others mind? I get the impression I am not entirely… a welcomed addition," she said as her eyes lowered.

"They aren't asking you. I am," he replied, uncertain where that sudden, albeit small burst of confidence he felt suddenly came from. She had just looked, so lost.

"Okay," she said in a small voice. "I would like that."


End file.
